


Sail, Not Drift

by JoJo



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Community: mag7daybook, Gen, Post-Series, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/pseuds/JoJo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen years on - so much has changed and so much stays the same. </p><p>A little snapshot of how things might have turned out, and what might lie ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sail, Not Drift

**Author's Note:**

> for the fandom stocking at daybook's summer santa 2014, and with thanks to Fara!

Vin leaned against the dresser with his arms folded and looked at the tableful of children in front of him. He wasn’t too pleased that Casey had done gone off and left him with them soon as he’d arrived, wasn’t sure what he’d do if anything happened that needed... well, all them things that kids needed.

“You gonna sit down?” the oldest of the children asked him, too curious to be polite. 

That, he knew, was Janet who had to be near nine years old now. She was a pretty, motherly child, named for Nettie Wells, who’d passed away the week before she was born, and about the only one of J.D.’s brood who was familiar to him. He’d been home much more often in the early days of the Dunne marriage, had seen her grow. Same was probably just about true of seven year-old J.J., with his shock of black hair and air of being a miniature version of his father. The other three who’d come along behind Vin didn’t know so much, and of course he’d never laid eyes on the baby yet. 

“I’m kind of a mess.” Vin didn’t even uncross his arms in case dust flew everywhere. “Wouldn’t want to sit down at your good, clean table like this.”

“Ma won’t mind.” Janet was confident but Vin wasn’t so sure. Casey Dunne’s kitchen looked spotless, in spite of the kids. Added to that, there didn’t seem much room. They were all squashed in together, with a very little girl sitting on Janet’s lap.

“Where you been?” one of the younger ones asked. That wasn’t young J.J. who was still concentrating on his food, in that way Vin remembered children tended to do, but the littler boy, Frank. Couldn’t be no more than four or five, Vin couldn’t rightly recall which.

He nodded, just as grave as the child. “Out on the trail. Only got in just now.” Frank stared at him, round-eyed, as if he was actually thinking ‘who the heck are you anyhow?’

“You here for the party?” Janet asked.

“Reckon I am.” Vin strained his ears to hear if Casey was coming back. Couldn’t hear anything. 

“Gonna be the biggest ever,” J.J. remarked, twirling his spoon around in the gravy on his plate. “With the train comin’ in and everything.”

“Yep.” Vin shifted his feet. “Ain’t hardly the same place.”

It was true enough. Five years of struggle while they’d been in town together and then ten of prosperity once they’d gone their own ways had wrought changes to the place Vin could hardly get his head around sometimes. 

*

He’d stopped off in town on his way through to the farm. Just to get a feel for it again. There was bunting flying and a new-paint and sawn-wood smell, the whole of the main street just clattering with busy people. Vin had taken a drink in the saloon, the one that used to be The Standish Tavern, but always seemed bigger every visit, with more beer pumps and more workers. It was all right in there, but he always missed Inez. Hoped she was doing well in Santa Fe. Then he’d passed by some other old haunts, even though he’d told himself before there was no point. Someone new was working above the Livery but it wasn’t who it had been last time. And Josiah’s church was yellow and cheerful and looked more than ever like the school it had become. Which just about summed up the place now. A school, two churches with real preachers in ‘em, two doctors Nathan hadn’t been able to work alongside, all sorts of fellers elected to all sorts of jobs. Businesses, stores, industry, one of the biggest newspaper concerns in the territory. And now even the railroad.

Progress.

Vin had tapped on the door of _The Clarion News_ , now situated in a different building from the old one by the bath house. It still smelled of India ink and chemicals though. A lady he thought he recognized but couldn’t recall her name told him they were closed for lunch, but then a door opened and out came the familiar fair-haired figure of the Editor. Vin felt a huge smile crack his dust-scoured face. 

“You made it,” the Editor said, eyes gleaming in pleasure. 

“Been a long trail.” Never mind how hard it had been leaving the place he’d come from, the people he’d been with.

“Good to see you, Vin.”

Vin laughed. The Editor of The Clarion, as ever, was blotched in ink and rather wild-haired. “Good to see you too, Chris.“

Larabee was in shirtsleeves, had a pencil stuck behind his ear and everything. Although it was still mighty strange to see him without a gun on his hip – as if he wasn’t really the same person Vin had once known so well - there was a real life in his embrace that told Vin the ghost of Ella Gaines was banished and everything had worked out.

“Am I the first?”

“Josiah got in from San Francisco two days ago. He’s coming in with Nathan from the Jackson place later. Who knows when we can expect Ezra, he’s never been on time yet, but Buck’ll be here by the party for sure.”

“Fer sure?” Vin had grinned a little at that. “He’s a busy man ain’t he?”

“Eagle Bend’s not that busy... besides he’s got himself a passel of deputies over there, and he likes deputizing.”

“Sheriff Wilmington in charge, right?”

Chris’s low laugh had been familiar. “Yep. It’s something to see all right, but... well I can tell you, never mind his desk and the forms he has to fill in, Buck hasn’t really changed at all.”

Vin had been surprised by the whoosh of relief under his ribs. “Well,” he’d said, looking around, knowing he and Chris would have a proper catch-up later. “Don’t want to disturb the late edition. Need to ride out to J.D.’s, make myself at home.”

“Meet the baby.”

“Yeah,” Vin had said, wondering for a split second who Chris meant and if he’d missed something again, “the baby.”

“Ethel is the baby. She’s nine months’ old now.”

“I know that.”

Chris had grinned, that old sly grin. “Of course you do.”

*

Of course he did. 

Although heck, Vin was doubly glad he’d stopped off at The Clarion when he heard footsteps stepping carefully down the open-tread stairs at the back of the little house. He stood up straighter against the dresser as the door to the kitchen was shouldered open. Casey appeared there with a tiny child on her hip.

“Baby girl!” Janet said, as if she was imitating her mother. She held out her arms and clapped but Casey came to Vin instead, which made his heart thump.

“Number six,” Casey said to him, smiling but wry, and Vin thought, although she was pretty as she ever was, up close she looked tired enough for that. He knew, too, the baby was really number seven, because they’d lost a little boy in between.

“So this is Ethel,” he said, relieved with his new knowledge. He reached with one finger for a small, plump hand even as the sleepy head turned away, shy. Another one with J.D.’s head of hair and round brown eyes full of hope and anxiety.

Fine kids, Vin thought. A fine family, with a life of hard work ahead of them to make sure they were never in want. Like the folk he’d just come from. He glanced back to the table where Janet had leaned across to push a wayward plate nearer one of her little sisters. Now which one was that... brown-haired and freckled from sunshine, the one who’d come along straight after J.J...

“Caroline is six,” Janet said to him importantly. She sat back and pinched the cheeks of the little one on her knee, just like a fond adult might do. “Maude is two.”

Little Maude didn’t look anything like her namesake, who’d passed near enough three years ago. The child did object to having her cheeks pinched though, especially by her sister. Oh boy, did she object. Vin let waves of shrill-voiced discord buffet him, anchored himself firmly against the dresser once more. 

“Now,” Casey said, voice rising above the sudden clamor. She swung Ethel away, held her out to the eldest. “Behave yourselves in front of Uncle Vin. I need to get some supper for him and your pa. Janet, you mind Maude and the baby. J.J,. you take your brother and sister out to play for a while, but don’t forget your chores.”

“You don’t need to take no special trouble,” Vin said as chairs scraped back from the table. The momentum of the children scampering from the room made it seem like the floor was moving.

“Shush.” Casey was forthright. “You’re our guest.”

Vin hadn’t been sure about accepting J.D.’s invitation to stay. He’d figured they were busy enough on the Dunne farm, couldn’t really use an extra mouth to feed. But he was better at negotiating the choppy waters of the right way to behave these days. Something told him that, however much he might prefer the idea of staying in town with Chris, or bunking up with Josiah at the little Jackson place, because he’d been invited, he should say yes. J.D. wanted him to see his life, to be proud, to have him spend time with the children who called him ‘Uncle’.

Free of Ethel, who was now in Janet’s arms, Maude having scooted under the table to play, Casey turned to the range. Began to bustle.

“I’ll go wash up,” Vin said.

“If you like, you could ride out towards the town road, you might meet J.D. coming in. He’s a good timekeeper and I’m expecting him real soon.”

By which Vin figured Casey wanted him out from under her feet. He grinned at Maude, peeping out at him from between two chairs.

“Well I’ll do that then,” he said.

*

Half an hour later, he rode back in with J.D. and they saw to their horses, stood for a while out on the porch while the children gamboled around them, ever on the go.

J.D. had filled out since the last time Vin saw him, had a black beard. He still wore a gun although it wasn’t very shiny, and his hands were farmer’s hands, more callused than Vin remembered. His eyes were still the same, though, and his deep-down optimism.

“Things goin’ good for you here?” Vin asked, having to bite his tongue before he called him ‘kid’.

J.D. seemed to guess that and half grinned at him. “Good enough. Hard work, but it’s all ours.”

“Fine family.”

“Big family.” J.D. laughed, embarrassed. “They just keep coming.”

“But you wouldn’t change that.”

“Not for anything, even though sometimes I wish I was you. Wish things were liked they used to be.” Yep, J.D. hadn’t changed.

“Well that’s a thing,” Vin said. “Guess we can all see other lives we think we’d like sometimes.”

“Josiah says so,” J.D. agreed. “Written whole books on it.”

They both laughed, then heard Casey’s voice from inside, calling them to quit lollygagging and come wash up.

It was a good meal, homely and hectic. Vin felt a little tongue-tied, and the children stared at him, still not quite sure. Casey left him and J.D. to it after a while, went to round up the children for bedtime. J.D. brought out a bottle of whisky and Vin managed a half tumbler before the trail caught up with him. He’d said he’d sleep in the barn but Casey wouldn’t hear of it . 

“We’ll drag the mattress out,” she said. “The girls can top and tail next to us.”

So he ended up sharing with J.J. and Frank, lay listening to their even, untroubled breathing, liking the feel of the sleeping house around him. Four walls, a mattress, fresh-brewed coffee. He was looking forward to seeing all the kids round the table again in the morning. Knew he’d be able to stand the chaos for no more than three days.

*

“J.D.’s pleased you’re staying ,” Chris told him at the town party the next afternoon. “Hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks.” 

“Good to be there,” Vin said, even though he hadn’t changed his mind on the three days.

“Enjoying the celebrations?” Chris asked, smirking.

He knew Vin wasn’t one for parties, any kind. And a party for a whole town...

Everyone was there. The mayor, the sheriff, the head of the railway company. Plenty of people who Vin knew, folk who’d stayed on through the bad times, helped make the good times. Mrs. Potter, looking careworn. Billy Travis, a grown man on Chris Larabee’s payroll. Plenty of folk he didn’t know, too. All those who’d come and settled in the last ten years, and that was one heck of a lot of hands to shake. He felt like he’d been saying howdy since the moment he opened his eyes. 

Mary wasn’t there, of course. She was Mrs. Whitman now, married that Gerard fellow she’d said no to before, moved a long way away after they lost the Judge to a lone wolf with a grievance and a shotgun. She’d sent a word of congratulation though, and Chris said he had a real nice piece from her for the Clarion.

“Remembering how it was,” he said, smile wolfish.

“When we was in charge?” 

Chris knocked him with an elbow. “When I was in charge. Trying to wrangle you boys whenever things went to hell.”

“Wrangle us?” Vin said, shaking his head. “So that’s what you called it.”

And of course the boys all got together before the day was out and after the train had arrived and there’d been speeches and a ribbon cut. Just drifted together on the sidewalk, round a couple of tables, and the mayor stood them some jugs of beer because he knew who they were. Who they’d been. What Orrin Travis had thought about them. Which made Vin feel glad and discontented all in one.

Things were just the same, but different. 

Josiah was dapper and cheerful, although Vin knew his health hadn’t been good. He looked like a professor, had a pair of spectacles he kept in his top pocket. Still wore the crucifix necklace. Seemed to find life less disconcerting than in the old days but no less deserving of long-winded quotation. He and Nathan were thick as thieves just the same, making each other laugh, and if Nathan was bitter at his lot, at a world that still wouldn’t give him a chance, he didn’t show it. Buck arrived like a conquering hero, still smiling at the ladies, just as full of life and momentum as he’d ever been although with a serious edge to his conversation now that made Vin grin into his mug. And just when they thought Ezra wasn’t going to make it at all, he’d surprised them silly by jumping down out of the ceremonial train to stride grinning at them through clouds of steam. He was too lean-looking, Vin thought, and his sharp clothes had seen better days.

And when J.D. and Nathan had to take their families home, agreed they’d all get together for supper the next evening, Josiah said he’d go along too because he just got bone tired after five o’clock these days. Buck and Ezra hadn’t stopped jabbering and they ambled along to the saloon together, which Vin wondered if they should worry about, but Chris said “later” and made a face. Which left the two of them, smoking cigars and sharing a bottle of whisky outside the Clarion. 

Which didn’t seem too different than fifteen years ago.

Only... Vin looked out and down the street, still unfamiliar in its spread and shape. Still full of people and noise, the steam whistle from the train still sounding from time to time, just to remind everyone. 

“Modern town,” he said. He knew it had been crazy here while they’d been building for the railroad to come through.

Chris leaned back in his chair and Vin saw the puff of cigar smoke trail up and disintegrate. “Guess we’ve made progress,” he said, and Vin knew he was talking about all of them, not about the town. “But then again, sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, maybe some of us are more comfortable.” Chris gestured behind him at the window of the Clarion office. “Me the newspaper editor, J.D. the farmer, Buck the officer of the law.” He sighed. “But heck, Ezra’s never made his fortune or anything like it. He’s always just a whisker away from needing to be bailed out of trouble, Josiah works out of some writer’s garret with more holes in it than the church back room ever had, and the Jacksons live hand to mouth out there in the desert – dealing in herbal remedies and treating sick livestock isn’t going to set the world alight when we’ve got doctors and apothecaries here in town.”

“And me,” Vin said, wry, and Chris grinned at him through the shadows.

“Yup, and you. Still on the wander, no fixed abode.”

“I ain’t looking for progress – not like that.”

“I know.”

Vin felt a bloom of emotion in his chest but he tried to squash it down. “Still people out there getting kicked about, Chris, needing help if there’s any on offer. Some things don’t ever seem to move on – except how nasty the weapons are.”

Chris gave a low laugh and Vin figured he’d totally failed to sound like he was just talking in general. “Always suspected you got up to more than hunting when you’re gone.”

“I’m no hired gun, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“Nope. Sounds like you’d do it for free.”

Vin looked across at him. “And you wouldn’t?”

“Well I don’t get asked anymore,” Chris said. “Too respectable.”

“Too much to lose?”

“The paper? Well, maybe. It’s a growing concern, does a lot of good work. I’d miss it, I guess.” He shifted his feet. “But J.D.... he’s definitely got too much to lose. Nathan, too – he’s not going to leave Rain and the babies. Josiah’s not as fit as he was, although I guess that’s true of us all. And Buck? Well I don’t know. He’s done good things in Eagle Bend, gained a lot of respect and done things the right way. Reckon he feels a pull to that town he couldn’t turn his back on.”

Vin knew it all made sense. It was things he couldn’t pretend to know about, but he knew they were things he wouldn’t fight against. “So it’s just you, me, and Ezra then,” he said, dry.

Chris leaned back in his chair, and laughed out loud at that prospect. “Reckon you’re right.” After a while he stopped laughing and gave Vin a close look.

“You got something in mind?” he asked, and an odd feeling spiked up Vin’s spine.

“I know a place,” he said. “Some people with a fight on their hands.” He watched Chris stubbing out the cigar butt under his feet.

“So that mean my leader article on how the west was done with violence wasn’t so very well researched?”

Vin shrugged. “I guess.” He wasn’t going to push it, it’s not what he’d really come home for. He’d just figured...

“These people with a fight on their hands. You close to them?” Chris was still looking straight at him. 

“As I can be.”

“You know I’d always go with you,” Chris said, and his voice was quiet. “If it was the right thing to do.” He paused while that sank in. “Can’t speak for the others. You’d have to ask ‘em.”

“I ain’t here to cause trouble.”

“Rain and Casey aren’t likely to see it like that.”

Vin dropped a hand to find his whisky. “Nope.”

There was a scraping sound as Chris stood up from his chair, moved to the edge of the boardwalk.

“So,” he said, pretend casual, loosening the kinks in his back. “You gonna ask ‘em?”

Vin swallowed the hot liquor. He thought about the tableful of children he’d shared breakfast with, smiling, nudging one another. They’d been warming to him, starting to bond. 

“Hell I don’t know.”

Chris turned around, and Vin thought he looked as if his mind was already made up. 

“Let’s go have a drink with those boys,” Chris said abruptly. “Buck’ll tell us what to do.”

Vin had always known he was going to regret mentioning it. Same as he’d always known he’d say it anyway. Seeing J.D.’s family should have made him stop his mouth. But then, seeing J.D.’s family made him remember what things were worth taking a stand for.

He left his whisky, got to his feet and followed Chris along the boardwalk. They passed by the old store where he’d pushed the broom once, wondered every minute of every day what he was going to do next. He’d been becalmed at the time, drifting, no destiny in mind. Vin paused, let Chris go on ahead for a moment. He looked out across the wide street, felt again the prickle on the back of his neck from all those years ago. In fact, he could almost see a figure standing across the other side of the street - the man with the cheroot, black coat billowing. That one look, passing like a breath of wind, so fleeting it was almost as if it had never happened.

“Hey, wait up,” he called, soft, and jumped down on to the dirt to join him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> “To reach a port we must set sail –   
> Sail, not tie at anchor   
> Sail, not drift.” ∼Franklin D. Roosevelt


End file.
